A Gypsy at Hogwarts
by fleur.de.liv
Summary: A runaway gypsy gets her acceptance letter. What happens next involves, a boy, a shell, and the Black Lake selkies. Read it because I'm awesome. Jk. But really. Read it.
1. Chapter 1: A Letter Arrives

**Disclaimer: all references to the Harry Potter series are the property of JK Rowling. And also I do reference gypsies in my story. I am so sorry if I offend anyone, and any corrections on the history or culture of the Romany gypsies is appreciated. Thank you and I hope you enjoy! **

* * *

I groaned still half asleep. Someone was poking me. Wait... No pecking at me. "What the...! Ew get off of me!" The familiar white barn owl that had been making its nest in the ceiling of our theatre flapped it's wings and moved to perch on a fraying velvet chair a couple of feet away from me. But before doing so, he dropped a yellowed envelope on my chest. "How peculiar," I said to myself, "who would write to me? Practically no one even knows I exist." Holding it up to the light leaking in from the holes that speckled the boarded wall, it read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Aloisia Odam,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

On the second page, a list of supplies were included. Finally, I thought, the letter that the clan was talking about. I mean I knew that they talked about a school for magic existing, but I never actually thought I would be attending it, especially because they kept me on a ridiculously short leash all of those years. I sighed, once more relieved of my decision to leave the gypsy family to wander the streets on my own, the plan has turned out to be better than I thought.

Sitting up, I looked around. Dawn. All of the other kids were still asleep. Tents, makeshift lofts, and sleeping bags with stands of dirty hair poking through the top were strewn about the whole building. We were the street kids. The ones who ran, the ones who escaped. All 40 of us lived here, ages ranging from 6 to 19. I was 11, no 12 actually just turned today (June 7). It wasn't a glittering palace, but it was something we could call home. Most of us begged on the street, others pick pocketed, and some of us had trades, like myself. I read people's fortunes. Yes, the infamous palm and tarot card reading, a skill I picked up while still traveling with the Romany gypsies.

But it isn't all of the hocus pocus that most other fortune tellers perform. I could swear I see their futures. I mean you can't tell from the outside. It isn't anything grand like what happens during seance, but I can tell its something. I just get this feeling. Like when I see the cards or their palm, I'm having deja vu. Like I'm remembering a dream I've had the night before. And this morning, this would-have-been-regular-London-foggy morning, the letter proved my suspicions. I was a witch. I indeed had magical blood running through my veins. Even my snot was magical.

Suddenly, the world seemed as if everything had a yellow tinge to it. A good yellow tinge. The kind that is produced when the sun is out and the light mixes with the atmosphere. The kind that comes with the feeling of elatedness. Everything looked beautiful today. Even as I looked into the cracked mirror propped up against my only wall, my grimy self looked kind of pretty today, strike that, approaching pretty. My mousy brown colored hair, became lustrous. My pale skin no longer looked sallow but rosy and milky, and my eyes went from a moody shade of teal to a crisp blue-green.

I slapped myself. This. Slap. Is Only. Slap. A Dream. Slap. I shut my eyes close as hard as I could till the pink back of my eyelids turned as black as a moonless night. I opened them, blinking till my sight changed from blurry to normal. Nope. Not a dream. This is real, and I Aloisia Eleutheria Odam, at last, can turn this nightmare of a life on its toes... Ow my cheek.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The next two months flew by fast. All I did was work. It was a summer of odd-jobs: a table busing, dish washing, lawn mowing, magazine selling summer. I promise I didn't pick-pocket. Okay maybe once or twice. Stop looking at me like that. I'm a gypsy okay? Its in my nature. I'm a street urchin and I need those Hogwarts supplies. The owl that nested near me had also become increasingly friendly. I think he likes me, so I've decided to take him as my pet to Hogwarts. I've given him a name to: Galileo.

It was July 30th. Just two days till the school year starts and the last day I could buy school supplies from Diagon Alley. Yes I know about Diagon Alley. Before I knew that I was a witch and when I was still with the family, me and the older gypsies would travel here to pick up certain ingredients that you couldn't find in an ordinary market. Ah Drats, I thought. The one place where I could run into a gypsy is the one place I have to go in order to get away from them.

I walked down to the middle of London and stopped at an alleyway sitting between a cheery cafe. The grossly familiar alleyway glared back at me, the shadows taunting me, daring me to turn my back and walk away. Challenge accepted. With my head held high, but not too high as to let my hood slip from my head, I walked to the end and I stopped at the towering brick wall at the back. Standing in front of it with closed eyes I chanted breathily "lapideas ut aquae" three times. Slowly the brick wall liquified, and a small section from the middle rained onto the ground to reveal an archway. Cautiously... I stepped over the threshold of the portal and into the new alleyway.


	2. Chapter 2: An (Un)Expected Surprise

**Chapter 2: An (Un)Expected Surprise.**

* * *

The hustle and bustle of Diagon alley, made me feel quite small. While I was still under 5 feet tall, the towering witches and wizards hardly noticed that I was weaving my way in and out of them. It was nice to be small, but sometimes it made me feel lonely, like the world had forgotten about me. Wrapping my grey jumper tighter around me, I made my way to Gringotts. The big white building sparkled under the unusually bright summer sun. the columns stood straight and strong. Especially compared to the homey and downtrodden appearances of the other shops, Gringotts looked regal. You could tell that it was built to fit the fortune of a king inside.

After climbing the steps and walking through the gilded doors, I made a beeline for a window. It seemed as if everyone was out shopping today. On most occasions, you could hear a pin drop on the floor but today there were at least 3 people waiting in line at each window. Most of them were chatting with one another and the voices reverberated throughout the hollow building making it seem even more busy.

When I stepped up to the counter I laid down my £239.45 and asked for it to be changed into galleons, sickles and knuts. The goblin then reached under the counter, pulled out a small leather brown bag, and plopped it on the counter. With a solemn expression he said, "Here you are miss. That is 48 galleons, 9 sickles, and 20 knuts. Have a good day." I nodded at the goblin, turned around to leave but bumped into someting. It was a large scruffy man dressed similar to a what I thought a pirate would look like, beaded dreadlocks and billowy shirt but minus the hat and parrot. I then proceeded to stumble backwards and drop my bag of coins onto the ground.

"Sorry miss," he apologize gruffly. He leaned down for the coins, "Here are your..." He looked up, "Well, hello Alo..." His previous expression of curtness turned into a sinister grin. I held my breath and before he could even begin to say the I in my name I snatched my bag out of his crusty hands and ran as fast as my legs could take me to the south end of the alley. I hurdled over baskets of dried goods and was inched way into the middle of a group of tall men in black robes and pointed hats. I looked back at my assailant and saw him in the middle of the Diagon Alley mob, his head hoisted high in an attempt to locate me through the hundreds of colorfully dressed people. Seeing that he was having trouble, I ducked out of the pack of men and into the Junk Shop. Scrambling to the back, I stumbled past towers of books with broken spines, bins of cracked wands, remembrals that refused to remind, and found myself squatting behind a low mahogany bookshelf and peering through the slots to see the entryway.

"Why now?," I said to myself, "Why did Uncle Sean have to see me today? Now he knows for sure that something is up. Why else would I be carrying around all that money? To buy a new pack of tarot cards? No way." Still ducking, I see his silhouette pass by the storefront. He pauses then takes three steps backward. I looked at the shop owner desperately and put my finger up to my lips. But it may have been too late, Uncle Sean was already talking to the shopkeeper. Sternly he asked, "Have you see a small girl pass through here? About yea high?" gesturing my height with his hands.

The shopkeeper stroked his beard and then pushed his glasses back to the top of the bridge of his crooked nose. "Yes," he said. I choked a little. "She passed through here and went out the back exit. It leads to the streets of London." Uncle Sean grunted and stomped off to the back and left the small shop.

I sighed, dropping my head between my knees. I was about to push myself off the ground when something caught my eye on the middle shelf. It was a shell necklace. A single shell with a small blue gem embedded in it, hung from a tarnished thin silver chain. I stood up and studied the artifact I now possessed in my palm. I stared at it. "It's beautiful," I whispered. The shell looked as if the last moments of a sunset were reflecting on its surface and the tiny gem was the color of the clearest Caribbean water. Sure, the chain was tarnished and the jewel was unpolished and maybe the shell was a little dirty, but it was still quite extraordinary.

"You can have it if you like," the shopkeeper said to me while he concentrated on polishing a glass orb. I looked at him with a surprised and confused expression. He continued, "I've had that piece for 12 years and no one seems the slightest bit interested in it. Plus, it has no magical properties to it." I looked down at my palm and back to him.

"No I can't accept this," I replied, "you have to be lying, its gorgeous." The shopkeeper now had a twisted expression, but it soon turned into a smile and then he erupted with laughter.

"If thats what you think is beautiful, you're crazy. Really, it's yours already. Now move along before you cause me anymore trouble." I smiled at him, pulled my hood back up, waved goodbye and left... But not before I pocketed a decent looking quill.

* * *

**So there are lots more chapters to come! Be excited for the introduction of very important character!**

**3 Liv**


	3. Chapter 3: Ollivander's

**Sorry it's so short guys! The chapters following chapter 4 will be much much longer. That is promised. :)**

* * *

Feeling relieved from the avoidance of a would-be-disastrous encounter with Uncle Sean, the family leader, I crossed the street to Ollivander's, giddy with excitement to buy my first wand.

Upon entering the shop I immediately coughed. Looking around I noticed that everything had turned a shade of grey due to the layer of dust that collected over time. Well except Mister Ollivander himself that is, actually maybe him too. The tiny shop was filled to the brim of boxes upon boxes of wands. Other than an old grandfather clock, a couple of moving paintings, and a vase holding a single orange daisy, the shop had no decorations, mainly due to the lack of space but mostly because the shop needed no decorations to build up its character; Ollivanders was distinctly its own.

Standing on my tip toes in an attempt to see over the counter, I leaned over to the left and looked down a row of shelves and waved. Mr. Ollivander who was standing on a ladder was too leaning back to see who had just walked in. He walked to the front desk and smiled, "Hello, Miss..."

"Aloisia Odam. But you can call me Alo," I responded firmly, nodding my head once.

"I see. Now what may I help you with? Well never mind that. You are here for a wand." He walked back to the row he previously stood in and stared at the shelves. "You are most definitely a first year, as I've never seen you in here before. And I do remember a face. I can remember every face that has visited this shop, perhaps not the name but thats because as you can see I'm not as young as I was thirty years ago." "Aha!" He exclaimed as he pulled out a dusty wooden box and made his way to the front again. "Here we are." He opened the box and gently handed the small wooden wand to me. Holding it with both of my hands, I studied it. "10 inches, birch wood and a phoenix feather core. Point at something," he then commanded. I waved the wand. I waited for something to break or sound off or anything. But, Nothing. However 15 seconds later sparks flew from the tip of the wand and darted toward Mr. Ollivander's head. After quickly ducking, he leaned over and took the dangerous artifact from my hand, and placed it back in the velvet lined box. "Nope. Not at all. Most definitely not this one."

He then smiled a smile of knowingness. The kind that comes after a realization of some sort. I wondered just what he was smiling about. He was staring at me, but not directly in the eye, just below my chin, at my necklace. "Of course," he whispered to himself, tapping his lips at the same time. With his hand gripping the polished railing for support, he slowly climbed the stairs and disappeared to some place I could not discern. Five minutes later he came back with another box. It was again, a simple wooden box, but this time, it was cracked and dinged, and the varnish had begun to peel off. As he opened it, the hinges creaked. He then handed me the wand that lay inside. "Try this one."

The wand was unusual. It was made of two different color woods. The handle was a dark black wood which faded into the lighter wood that made the rest of the wand. However, the most beautiful part, in my opinion, were the silver dots that embellished the handle. Against the black wood, silver dots created what was reminiscent of the night sky. This time, instead of randomly flinging the wand about. I swished it in the direction of an empty glass that was lying on the counter. Immediately it started to fill up with water. I smiled at him asked, "Mr. Ollivander, why is this wood two different colors?"

He replied, "The wood that makes this wand is actually from two separate trees that grew together. The trees were Ebony and Willow and at a particular notch where they connected, the wood melded together."

I stared at the wand. "Wow"

"Even more interesting, is that your wand's core is a strand of veela hair. A core I stopped using 50 years ago." He turned to walk back to his desk. "You can leave your payment on the counter," he shouted. "Oh and as for the other stats of the wand, it is 12 inches, a very sturdy length and... quite inflexible."

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was the night before I left for Hogwarts, August 31st. Sitting on the roof of the theatre, I stared of into the distance, watching the sun slowly fall toward the horizon. The sky was painted orange and bright pink, and behind me, the sky had darkened to a majestic purple. A dreamy haze of fog had settled in, wrapping the city in a thick blanket. It was making me quite sleepy. Galileo perched on my shoulder. I sighed. It would be a long time before I would be able see this again. "Maybe Hogwarts will be even more beautiful," I whispered to Galileo. He hooted. "Just maybe." And the sun slipped below.


	4. Chapter 4: Christopher Conrad

Galileo was pecking me again. "What do you want?" I groaned, turning over onto my stomach and burying my head under my sleeping bag. Then I woke up with a start. Pushing my knotted hair out of my face, I checked my watch. 9:47! Oh no! I only have slightly over an hour to get to kings cross station and I don't even know where platform 9 3/4 is! I rushed about my small area in the theatre, rolling up my sleeping bag, getting Galileo into his cage, brushing my teeth, combing my hair, clearing my space so the next person who inhabits it won't have to, putting on a clean set of clothes, grabbing my school bag and finally wheeling my tattered green trunk out the back entrance. Thank heavens I packed the night before. It's probably why I woke up so late. I spent hours going over my checklist to see if I had everything. And then even when I tried to sleep, I couldn't to all of the excitement building up in me. I probably could've ran a marathon because of all that energy.

As soon as the bus came round the corner, I hopped on. The driver gave me the oddest look when he saw that I was carrying an owl. I gave him a dark look, one that said "if you say anything, I will scream so loud, from that point on you'll be deaf." and sat in the empty seat behind him.

Stepping off the bus, I ran towards the entryway, my train ticket fluttering in one hand and Galileo and my trunk rolling along the pavement in the other. I searched for the platforms. I saw a sign pointing me in the direction of Platforms 9 and 10. "It must be between those two," I said to myself. I looked down at my watch. 10 minutes. I can do this. I started running again pushing my way through thick crowds of people. The distance between me and platform 9 grew smaller and smaller. I was panting, sweat made my hands slick, making it increasingly more difficult to keep a tight grip on my trunk and Galileo. I stopped running at Platform 9 to catch my breath, also knowing that Platform 9 3/4 would be just a little ways down. I walked briskly past the platform toward Platform 10, all the while looking for a sign that read Platform 9 3/4. But then I saw the sign for Platform 10. No that's not possible, I thought. I walked back in the direction of Platform 9. Still no sign. I paced between Platforms 9 and 10 five more times.

Finally giving up I leaned on an archway and sliding my back against the wall until I was sitting on the ground. I looked at my watch. 3 minutes. I'll never make it. There goes those dreams, I thought. But then something most peculiar happened; the wall behind me suddenly gave way. I screamed and caught myself by instinctively holding my hands out in back of me. Looking in front of me I saw that only half of myself and my trunk were present. Galileo's cage had rolled to the side and he was now flapping uncontrollably. The other half I guessed were on the opposite side of the brick wall which was now in front of my face. I scrambled to push myself up to find that dangling above me was a sign that read Platform 9 3/4. A huge smile spread across my face. I turned around. Behind me, through the crowd of proud waving parents, a gigantic red train sat steaming on the tracks. The only other way to describe it would be wonderful, as if it chugged straight out of a story book.

I ran, more like skipped, to the the passenger car as the ticket man yelled the last call. Inside, I stared down a hall way. Boys were hopping between compartments, showing off their latest tricks, while the girls were gossiping and giggling. I looked into each cabin, hoping one would be willing to take a last minute addition. I passed boxes and boxes of children, all of varying age and started to feel like everyone had already become the best of friends. But, at the very end of the corridor, I saw a vacant cabin. I sighed, happy to find some peace and quiet. "Maybe I could take a nap," I thought to myself, "I'm terribly tired from staying up all last night."

I closed the door behind me and hoisted my bag into the overhead compartment and gently nudged Galileo over as well. I then squashed my jumper into a sort of makeshift pillow and then settled into a corner, delighted to find that the benches were quite cushy. However, just as I started to lean my head against the window, I suddenly felt as if I had just drank ten cups of coffee. It was as if my body knew something important was going to happen, something I needed to be awake for.

The door shut with a loud thud! A boy was staring out the door window frantically, panting. After standing there for a good minute. He sunk down into the bench, his eye still on the door.

"Hello, I'm Alo," I said to the back of his head. He whipped around, an astonished look upon his face.

"Oh!"

"Well, actually it's Aloisia, Aloisia Odam."

"Hi"

I looked him over. He was tall for his age. Not extremely tall, but just over average. His golden brown hair was standing in multiple directions. Some was up, some was down, some was wavy and other parts straight. It made him look like he had just climbed out of bed. As for his eyes, the hazel orbs held glint of mischievousness in them. "So yours is?"

"Oh uh Chris, my name's Chris... Conrad. So... you mind if I stay here? Some fourth year tossers were trying to test some spells on me. I..."

The tea cart witch then arrived at our cabin. "Anything you fancy?"

"No thanks," I replied with a smile. She looked at Chris.

"Ah, um, some of those, whatever those are."

"Cauldron cakes my dear, here you are. That'll be 10 sickles." Chris handed over some coins and with a wink, she left for the next cabin.

"As I was saying..." Chris started. But I stopped him again.

"Just a sec." I popped my head out the door and snaked my hand next to the trolley witch's waist, stealthily grabbing a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "Continue please." I sat down and popped a handful of the jelly beans into my mouth, straight faced. Chris's mouth hung open. I chewed. But then the corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky, conniving smile.

"As I was saying, so I ran in here and met you, Aloisia Odam A STEALING WI..." I flew at him and covered his mouth entirely, preventing him from shouting the rest of his sentence. He squinted at me and placed his hand out. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the jelly beans from my seat. I poured some into his cupped palms while giving him my most evil glare. Grinning, he threw one into the air and caught it in his mouth. His smile faded. He started coughing, violently, tears streamed down his face.

"CHILI PEPPER!" he yelled. With a dumbstruck look, I burst out laughing, doubling over to save my straining abdominal muscles. My eyes were now tearing up as well. Galileo joined me by flapping his wings in his cage and giving a hoot. Chris gulped down water, his adam's apple bobbing and then accidentally dribbled it on his pants. He stared down at his now wet lap; a giggle escaped from his mouth and then he too was laughing, with closed eyes and shoulders bouncing up and down.

"Truce?" I asked still shaking from laughing, but with a hand stretched out.

"Truce," he replied grabbing my hand.

* * *

**So next chapter will be in their 5th year. Sorry to whom ever wanted me to go through all 7 years of hogwarts. That ain't gonna happen. Be excited! Things are going to become a hell of a lot better from this point on! Look forward to a grown up Chris ;)**


End file.
